It may seem surprising, given where we live, that Mackay Harbour holds a special place for us in our connection betwixt sail and the sea. After a life of play in the sea in one way or another, we both came under the spell of the sail somewhat later in life. Go back 14 years and the only real experience that we had enjoyed under sail had been to own sailboards which, in retrospect taught us more about harnessing the wind than we ever guessed at the time. A phone call from Geoff Gowing and Tess McGrath to see if we were interested in joining a mainly novice crew in Adelaide to learn how to sail a 42’ Swan for offshore races, changed a lot of things for us. This was a challenge that we embraced with gusto and in the process we made some wonderful new connections in a personal sense and it opened up an entirely new link with the sea. Although offshore races were competitive – and how! – what we both found alluring was that each race was about going to a destination, not just churning your way around marker buoys. Later when Tess and Geoff moved their marine focus to Hamilton Island we found ourselves boat-less and having to decide whether we gave up big sails or took the plunge and bought a boat of our own. A 42 footer like Leda was out of the question, but we believed that we were ready to take on the responsibility of managing our own, smaller, yacht and discovering what it was like to sail to our own destinations.
Mackay MarinaWe found Crystal Voyager a 26’ offshore trailerable Duncanson yacht literally under our noses, in the marina at the Goolwa Regatta Yacht Club, about 15minutes drive from home. A tough sea-kindly three tonner, with an 18hp diesel, she was like a Jack Russell of the sea with irrepressible go-anywhere qualities, always punching above her weight at sea. We sailed her extensively in the SA Gulfs, to Kangaroo Island, and in the fabulous cruising waters off Port Lincoln. After two years of milking SA waters, we were keen to trailer Crystal Voyager to a distant destination, and quickly settled on the Whitsundays in Queensland. After four days on the road and a day or two to rig and provision, we were poised to launch her at the Mackay Marina and set sail for the islands that were but conical smudges on the horizon to the east. Were we game to aim, first, for remote Scawfell Island, almost out of sight, some 30 odd miles offshore? In the end we trusted in what we knew, checked the weather with VMR (Volunteer Marine Rescue) Mackay and went for it. For the next eight weeks and 500plus nautical miles through the Whitsundays to Bowen and return, we became seduced by a life at sea, in charge of our own ship and our own destiny. There were so many things about cruising to tropical destinations that were sensational. When we had packed Crystal Voyager on her trailer and were ready to turn our reluctant heads for home, we wondered if somehow, one day, we might return. Now, to round the Mackay breakwater and clear in with VMR Mackay (report our safe arrival) on board Calista having sailed her from South Australia was an immensely satisfying moment for us both. Yes Mackay is a special place for us both.
Soon, however, nostalgia was superseded by another more pressing and sometimes frustrating consideration – the weather. The Sou – Easter that had sent us packing from the Percy Islands was now building, strong wind warnings were out, and the prognosis was that they would linger for almost a week. A week! Almost long enough for marinaitis to set in (see last blog) - as we noted with a yacht opposite us in the marina!
A boat with Marinaitis !
Delays such as this are testing for our crew, but there was nothing to be done except to use the time to check out the marina and Mackay, do some maintenance tasks on board and get to the shops for some fresh reprovisioning when the winds started to settle. An item of note was the Marina breakwater wall itself. It had just been constructed when we last visited, and we had then marvelled at its dimensions. It was so huge that a sightseeing road had been constructed on top of it. In March this year, cyclone UIlui hit the coast between Mackay and Airlie Beach and the marina wall at Mackay took a hammering. For over 12 hours the winds howled at up to 80knots! The road atop the wall was partially destroyed as the massive seas plucked boulders from the breakwater as though they were rice bubbles. To see the impact of this storm on this structure was a stark reminder of the power of the sea. Happily, at the time the Marina wall held and there was relatively little damage here compared with further up the coast.
We had entered Mackay harbour on Sunday afternoon 20th June, and were not able to put to sea until lunchtime the following Friday – even then the forecast for the Bowen to St Lawrence Coast was SE 25-30kn, just short of a strong wind warning. We felt that conditions had eased enough to go. Just as we were about to slip our lines, friends from the Crusing Yacht Club in SA, Royce and Delene off Farr Star, called by to wish us well. It was a total surprise to see them and we really appreciated that after a tiring four days on the road from SA, they had made the effort to connect.
Being finally free of the marina, feeling the wind in our faces, and the movement of the sea underneath us was like a universal elixir. Everything felt better, and there was the bonus that we were bound for beautiful Brampton Island, just under 20nm away. With reduced main and a fuller headsail we romped before the wind and with a little help from the tide we were safely on anchor well before sunset. The anchorage at Brampton has excellent holding and as light faded in the west, a glorious full moon rose over the passage between Brampton and Carlisle Islands, and in the bell-clear air a chorus of birds could be heard from the nearby forest, including the melancholy note of the Beach Stone Curlew.
The Southern anchorages on Brampton seen on our walk.
After a few days of shore-based indolence we were keen to stretch our legs and tackle the highly recommended walking track that skirts Brampton and has an offshoot that leads to viewing points at the summit. On our Crystal Voyager visit eight years earlier we were denied the opportunity to complete this walk when our little ship lost its propeller. An expensive folding propeller ($1700 to replace in 2002!), it had “spun off” when we reversed whilst anchoring, - theory is that its locating grub screws had shaken loose on the long haul from SA – but we had the great fortune of being able to free-dive to retrieve it on the next low tide. A resultant sail back to Mackay, and an ignominious tow into the harbour to have it refitted meant that we missed out on the Brampton walk. Because our predicament involved the radio coordination of VMR Mackay, everyone knew of our mishap and, for the next few weeks, on anchorage, they’d drift by in their tenders saying “so you’re the people who lost your prop!”
Ashore on Brampton, we noted that cranes and a pontoon alongside the jetty was not part of a re-vamp but was in fact more another legacy of the destruction brought by cyclone UIlui. The pier and part of the little railway linking the jetty to the resort had been demolished in the storm, and now they were being rebuilt. We are glad we were not around when it hit.
" There are no snakes on Brampton Island!"
We saw hundreds of these beautiful butterflies.
The walk around Brampton proved equal to its billing with 12kms of panoramic vistas over beach and forest, boardwalks through mangroves, and eagle eyrie views from the Cape Hillsborough and Carlisle lookouts atop the island. Soaring sea-eagles, a sighting of the rare Beach Curlew and the unique incubation mounds of the scrub turkey, were avian highlights, whilst in the forest glades basket and maidenhair ferns, and cycads were as common as soursobs at home. Butterflies; gold black and iridescent blue floated through the forest like confetti at an Italian wedding There were no detractions apart from two serpents which slithered across our path, although the smaller one, a whip-like creature with striking gold and olive livery, paused long enough in front of us to have its photo taken (editors note – herself is demanding that in the interests of truth in this chronicle, it be recorded that she led this walk into the wilds on the false pretext, promoted maliciously by her co-walker, that “no, there are no snakes on Brampton”). Emerging with fevered brow from the bush we feigned resident status at the resort, and reclined poolside for a time with some highly acceptable wedges and a strawberry smoothie, before resuming our true identity as wandering sailors.
Back on board Calista, only one thing troubled us. From the top of Brampton the ethereal form of distant Scawfell Island beckoned us from the east. To re-visit this area and not journey to Scawfell was like seeing Agra, but not the Taj. This time the weather gods were with us, as the evening met bulletin delivered SSE 10-15 knots, for the next two days, perfect for a sail to Scawfell and back. This was something that we had to do, so next morning our ship instead of bearing to the north, made for a distant shape to the east.
The ethereal and remote Scawfell anchorage.
The small bay alongside the main anchorage of Refuge Bay, Scawfell Island.
The publication 100 Magic Miles, the primary guide to cruising the Whitsundays, lists Scawfell as the southern most anchorage of the broader Cumberland Group, and as we retraced our steps beyond Brampton Island to Goldsmith further north, islands began to appear out of the sea in profusion. It must have been hard for early explorers when the call came down from the yards “Islands, Captain, lots of them now to the north!” By now most on board had their name bestowed on a headland or cape, plus there were the usual recognitions of Lords of the Realm, politicians, notaries, home villages, hamlets, etc, etc. What names do you give to this next lot! With the islands around Goldsmith they became creative and maybe had a bit of fun to boot. They adopted a metallurgical genre approach and maybe everyone on watch got to call out a name fitting the theme. Around Goldsmith in the Sir James Smith Group lie islands dubbed: Blacksmith, Ladysmith, Tinsmith, Silversmith, Coppersmith, Locksmith, Anchorsmith, Farrier, Bullion, Ingot, Solder and then, continuing the heavy metal theme, Anvil, Hammer, Forge (Rocks), Pincer, Ingot and Specie (Shoal), plus Finger and Thumb Islands –the last no doubt nominated by a clumsy crew member with painful memories of mishits in the foundry. Nestling between Goldsmith and Tinsmith is Linne (Island). Linne? On board our ship as we navigated nearby, we were perplexed. Maybe Linne was a past flame, perhaps a brassy piece, or maybe she had been taken for granite by the Tinsmith, who found her to be not at all gneiss because she was closer to Goldsmith. Certainly Linne has impressive peaks, is well adorned, but is flawed in that she is eternally surrounded by turbulence!
Great sail to Goldsmith Island.
This idle speculation about nomenclature, that ended our 29 nm romp from Scawfell, was terminated by the more serious business of safe anchoring in the lee of Goldsmith. With Calista settling on her chain we again had a turtle rise to greet us and then a pair of White-Bellied Sea Eagles wheeled past around the headland before Farrier Island. These regal raptors are our favourite seabirds, and happily, they seem to exist in abundance in these islands. Watching them wheel over islands on thermals is one of the great delights of cruising this region. They seem to be flawed in only one area – their call. Because they often fly alone it is seldom heard. This time the pair over Goldsmith were chatting as they went, in their curious goose like honking call, which is not at all what you would expect from this noble bird. By now we were finding that although the islands are largely National Parks and remain relatively untouched, the waters and anchorages were holding more cruising and recreational craft, and the feeling of remoteness was disappearing. Of note was the number of cruising catamarans found in the region, because they have great stability, sailing speed, and an ability to anchor close to shore. The cruising cat is deservedly popular hereabouts. We have also noted a number of luxurious power cruisers, each one of them, compared with ourselves, a city afloat. When they need more power to drive yet another electronic appliance or toy, they just burn more fuel in the genset. The fact that we generate sufficient 12v power on anchor via our solar panels and wind generator to run our electrics on board would mystify them. They enjoy a different life afloat.
Sundowners and another lousy sunset, Goldsmith Island!
With Goldsmith lacking walking trails, after a morning beach inspection and a delightful swim in the sun, we made for Thomas Island just a mere 8nm away. The anchorage on the north of Thomas Island consists of three adjoining bays, each with golden sand and waters that simply beckon. We have found that following Cyclone UIlui, many of the north-facing beaches have suffered considerably from sand erosion and damage to beachside vegetation. The snorkelling thus far has been poor, but we know that the best locations lie off the islands to the north. The environments in these islands are so delicious however, that to stroll upon the beaches, swim and just enjoy their innate beauty is enough, and no two anchorages are the same. At our next destination, Shaw Island, for example, a long walk ashore saw us come upon one beach where we found turtles in profusion, including some that sunned themselves in the shallows, almost under our feet. Nearby however, we were startled by a sudden scuttling of stingrays, again almost underfoot. These were the distinctive Cowtail Stingrays, and we were forced to move our stroll in the shallows onto land as in some places their noses were almost on the shore. Moreover, their tendency to burrow themselves in the sand made them dangerous stepping stones. In one location by the shore we counted 17 rays lying cheek by flap in the sand. Only their distinctive tails, with a dark ribbon of webbing, gave them away. We have unofficially dubbed this beach Stingray Bay.
Spot the stingray.
Plenty of turtles as well.
The walk around Brampton proved equal to its billing with 12kms of panoramic vistas over beach and forest, boardwalks through mangroves, and eagle eyrie views from the Cape Hillsborough and Carlisle lookouts atop the island. Soaring sea-eagles, a sighting of the rare Beach Curlew and the unique incubation mounds of the scrub turkey, were avian highlights, whilst in the forest glades basket and maidenhair ferns, and cycads were as common as soursobs at home. Butterflies; gold black and iridescent blue floated through the forest like confetti at an Italian wedding There were no detractions apart from two serpents which slithered across our path, although the smaller one, a whip-like creature with striking gold and olive livery, paused long enough in front of us to have its photo taken (editors note – herself is demanding that in the interests of truth in this chronicle, it be recorded that she led this walk into the wilds on the false pretext, promoted maliciously by her co-walker, that “no, there are no snakes on Brampton”). Emerging with fevered brow from the bush we feigned resident status at the resort, and reclined poolside for a time with some highly acceptable wedges and a strawberry smoothie, before resuming our true identity as wandering sailors.
Enjoying our well earned wedges and smoothie.
Back on board Calista, only one thing troubled us. From the top of Brampton the ethereal form of distant Scawfell Island beckoned us from the east. To re-visit this area and not journey to Scawfell was like seeing Agra, but not the Taj. This time the weather gods were with us, as the evening met bulletin delivered SSE 10-15 knots, for the next two days, perfect for a sail to Scawfell and back. This was something that we had to do, so next morning our ship instead of bearing to the north, made for a distant shape to the east.
The ethereal and remote Scawfell anchorage.Scawfell is a crescent shaped island affording excellent shelter from the SE. In the anchorage, thick forest adorns its heights and it is likely that few apart from the hardiest adventurers have made it far from the beach. At anchor it is like being in the centre of a forested MCG with the undergrowth stretching away to the top of the Great Southern Stand, and more. After an excellent sail to the island, an exploration of its pristine beaches and a superb swim in its reef-fringed lagoon we had the exquisite pleasure of seeing a full moon rise over this beautiful place from the foredeck. Again, a chorus of birds turned the still night air into a soundshell. It had been a day of great connection with nature with the spotting of our first migratory Humpback whales, a turtle surfacing to check us out as we anchored and a pod of dolphins surrounding Calista as we enjoyed “sundowners” on the afterdeck. Next morning with clouds dusting Scawfell’s upper ramparts, we eased out of the anchorage before a fair breeze feeling that our diversion to this far-flung isle had been really worth the effort.
The publication 100 Magic Miles, the primary guide to cruising the Whitsundays, lists Scawfell as the southern most anchorage of the broader Cumberland Group, and as we retraced our steps beyond Brampton Island to Goldsmith further north, islands began to appear out of the sea in profusion. It must have been hard for early explorers when the call came down from the yards “Islands, Captain, lots of them now to the north!” By now most on board had their name bestowed on a headland or cape, plus there were the usual recognitions of Lords of the Realm, politicians, notaries, home villages, hamlets, etc, etc. What names do you give to this next lot! With the islands around Goldsmith they became creative and maybe had a bit of fun to boot. They adopted a metallurgical genre approach and maybe everyone on watch got to call out a name fitting the theme. Around Goldsmith in the Sir James Smith Group lie islands dubbed: Blacksmith, Ladysmith, Tinsmith, Silversmith, Coppersmith, Locksmith, Anchorsmith, Farrier, Bullion, Ingot, Solder and then, continuing the heavy metal theme, Anvil, Hammer, Forge (Rocks), Pincer, Ingot and Specie (Shoal), plus Finger and Thumb Islands –the last no doubt nominated by a clumsy crew member with painful memories of mishits in the foundry. Nestling between Goldsmith and Tinsmith is Linne (Island). Linne? On board our ship as we navigated nearby, we were perplexed. Maybe Linne was a past flame, perhaps a brassy piece, or maybe she had been taken for granite by the Tinsmith, who found her to be not at all gneiss because she was closer to Goldsmith. Certainly Linne has impressive peaks, is well adorned, but is flawed in that she is eternally surrounded by turbulence!
This idle speculation about nomenclature, that ended our 29 nm romp from Scawfell, was terminated by the more serious business of safe anchoring in the lee of Goldsmith. With Calista settling on her chain we again had a turtle rise to greet us and then a pair of White-Bellied Sea Eagles wheeled past around the headland before Farrier Island. These regal raptors are our favourite seabirds, and happily, they seem to exist in abundance in these islands. Watching them wheel over islands on thermals is one of the great delights of cruising this region. They seem to be flawed in only one area – their call. Because they often fly alone it is seldom heard. This time the pair over Goldsmith were chatting as they went, in their curious goose like honking call, which is not at all what you would expect from this noble bird. By now we were finding that although the islands are largely National Parks and remain relatively untouched, the waters and anchorages were holding more cruising and recreational craft, and the feeling of remoteness was disappearing. Of note was the number of cruising catamarans found in the region, because they have great stability, sailing speed, and an ability to anchor close to shore. The cruising cat is deservedly popular hereabouts. We have also noted a number of luxurious power cruisers, each one of them, compared with ourselves, a city afloat. When they need more power to drive yet another electronic appliance or toy, they just burn more fuel in the genset. The fact that we generate sufficient 12v power on anchor via our solar panels and wind generator to run our electrics on board would mystify them. They enjoy a different life afloat.
Sundowners and another lousy sunset, Goldsmith Island!With Goldsmith lacking walking trails, after a morning beach inspection and a delightful swim in the sun, we made for Thomas Island just a mere 8nm away. The anchorage on the north of Thomas Island consists of three adjoining bays, each with golden sand and waters that simply beckon. We have found that following Cyclone UIlui, many of the north-facing beaches have suffered considerably from sand erosion and damage to beachside vegetation. The snorkelling thus far has been poor, but we know that the best locations lie off the islands to the north. The environments in these islands are so delicious however, that to stroll upon the beaches, swim and just enjoy their innate beauty is enough, and no two anchorages are the same. At our next destination, Shaw Island, for example, a long walk ashore saw us come upon one beach where we found turtles in profusion, including some that sunned themselves in the shallows, almost under our feet. Nearby however, we were startled by a sudden scuttling of stingrays, again almost underfoot. These were the distinctive Cowtail Stingrays, and we were forced to move our stroll in the shallows onto land as in some places their noses were almost on the shore. Moreover, their tendency to burrow themselves in the sand made them dangerous stepping stones. In one location by the shore we counted 17 rays lying cheek by flap in the sand. Only their distinctive tails, with a dark ribbon of webbing, gave them away. We have unofficially dubbed this beach Stingray Bay.
Spot the stingray. Plenty of turtles as well.At night from Shaw Island the resort on Lindeman Island was lit like a cruise liner and the red lights a little to the north marked the navigational beacons of Hamilton Island’s jet airport. Remote places like Scawfell had faded beyond the horizon and the immensely popular Whitsundays lay before us. Now distances between anchorages were small, and as James Cook had observed in 1770, they were to be found in profusion, offering protection from all quarters. Next day, leaving Lindeman Island to starboard, we soon entered Dent Passage, the narrow waterway between Hamilton Island (“Hammo” to locals) and Dent Island, where, in January 2007, we first laid eyes on Calista. Cookie had “discovered” her for sale on the Yacht Hub website, and Geoff Gowing kindly arranged a local shipwright to visit her in Dent Passage to see if was worth us flying up from SA to seriously negotiate for her purchase. The call from “Hammo” reached us on Crystal Voyager in a challenging sea passage out of Boxing Bay on Kangaroo Island, bound for Wirrina, and with spray flying and phone reception questionable, the word was “If you are interested, you had better get up here quick. She won’t last”. In a little over a week, we had headed north, met Bella and Derek, and after a tour of Calista, a test sail and a positive report from a Marine Surveyor, she became OURS!!
Now we were picking up a mooring at the exact spot where we had celebrated the purchase on a balmy eve with Bella, Derek, and Jon and Liz (ex custodians of middle Percy Is [as per Yeppoon to Mackay Blog]). We could hardly believe it! Later when our jet swooped out of Hamilton Island and the islands of the Whitsundays were laid out below us like emerald shapes on an aqua carpet, we wondered if it would ever be possible for us to bring Calista back to these islands. Now with over 2205 nautical miles, under our keel since we had departed from Wirrina in April, here we were!!
With strong South – Easterlies forecast, our re-connection with Bella and Derek on their new yacht Pandana had to occur in the shelter of May’s Bay on Whitsunday Island, so, for the moment we only had a few hours to go ashore on Hammo, the Cannes of the Queensland coast. Although we are wedded to distant places away from the madding crowd, we admit to be drawn to the intoxicating extravagance that is Hamilton Island, if only to see what new excess has been conjured by its developers. This time apart from the extraordinary super cruisers in the Marina, looking like gilded snooks each comparing their respective livery, the new Hamilton Island Yacht Club now lies like a beaked crane on the entrance wall, daring normal people to come near.
We visited and left this soulless place, complete with its atrium, passage fronted lap pool, to those who feel at home there. We preferred to make for May’s Bay, for a much anticipated opportunity to have Bella and Derek back on board Calista, in the Whitsunday’s!
From May’s Bay, when the winds abated, we knew that only a short sail would see us at anchor off a people’s yacht club, the Whitsunday Sailing Club, Airlie Beach, where, over time cruising yachties have gathered to share tales of the sea. Its chilled offerings, its renowned hearty fare and its peerless balcony view over the yachts at anchor drew us unerringly, and we would not be disappointed. After Airlie, we had a mind to pause for a time and sup on the delights of the Whitsundays. There was so much to anticipate
